Salvador Dalí, Composition for “Labyrinth,” 1947
i’m looking for something to trigger it the vision of a scene that was wronged by the seizure of a violin, a stolen touch like a carpenter’s hand discerning the contours of a naked jawbone, and a set of feet that stormed a violent hallway while the neck was half asleep if fortune had a shadow it would be longer than a midnight gown or the length of a woman wrapped in silk and bedazzled like a *pomegranate jewel* {we are poets in numbers our eyes can’t comprehend} in truth, it was the blue and white of it, the curb of the seaside that made my fingers ache for the trouble of a winding rope, an anchor at the basin of a free falling tree from which the sea claimed its rhythm as i climbed, the generations were beating in my heart like a kettle drum and my conscience couldn’t contain the silence let our fathers go the ends of our stories are the square that binds the knots of time like a recycled shadow our tongues are being strangled at the roots {within each of us is the voice of a poet seeking a universal rhythm} jackknife pollen down a slippery throat in the flesh, in the strait, in the chamber, hive arrow seed was an inverted navel, a maroon-bellied prisoner of the sun and a voice drowned in the echoes of children sleeping like carrots on the pillows of a neglected harvest {only our imaginations are free enough to invoke the gifts of a silence beyond silence}
This poem was inspired primarily by the Dalí painting above. It is also worth noting, however, that I’ve been experimenting with my methods of composition lately, and as part of a new poetic exercise, composed a number of these lines after listening to a reading of Jim Morrison’s poetry (to music by The Doors) on the album, An American Prayer. (If you’re a Morrison fan, very highly recommended.)
17 responses to “Final Cut”
Poetry, a gateway to eternity 🗝️
Salvador, the Maestro, bidding all
to come and play 😎
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…in his playground,
like the eye that watches,
as both time and space go
tumbling into sleep 👁
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As the clock face melts
into timeless space
l sit and write bad poetry
For I too wish to live a day longer 😎
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Haha…amen. Cheers to bad poetry! 😉🍻
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I have no problem with that👌Cheers🥂
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Vous êtes toujours aussi surprenante et élégamment poétique, Melle TUL … Beaucoup plus que votre admiré Dalí, qui a dit un jour qu’il se considérait comme “un écrivain bien meilleur qu’un peintre”. On dit également qu’il était dyslexique et avait des difficultés avec le langage. Si tel était le cas, c’était un grand mérite de pouvoir exprimer ses rêves excentriques dans diverses œuvres littéraires. 🙂
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Merci beaucoup. Je ne savais pas qu’il était pensé pour être dyslexique. Quel talent extraordinaire! J’ai hâte de lire deux textes autobiographiques bientôt: «La vie secrète de Salvador Dalí» et «Journal d’un génie». J’apprendrai certainement davantage. La capacité de transmettre des images en peinture comme en poésie est un cadeau phénoménal. It pleases me that you found this poem surprising. 🙂
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Ha! I just saw this interview clip shared on another blog: https://youtu.be/6oPT0X_wJx4
Do you know what else? I think there is a semblance of truth in this for poets, too….I think I would be a bad artist if I were more “intellectual.” I have wondered this very thing myself, if there is a significant point at which intelligence and creativity diverge. That is, if one can be “too smart” (as in high IQ) to reach the heights of one’s creative potential… 🤔
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That’s an interesting reflection TUL, but I can’t give you my opinion right now. I’m tired, I’m just so tired, and like a soldier in a night war I’ll go now and seek a bed.
Ps. I don’t want you to be angry with me for not give you a quick and grounded answer. 🙂
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I understand, Xyz, that matters such as these are often best resolved by a long and ponderous sleep. 🙂
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😴 Bon nuit mon cher!
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Bon nuit, Xyz 💤
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Dali is such an inspiration:)
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Yes! He sure is 🙂
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The images flow well in this piece. Dali’s work is always fascinating but Jim Morrison has also been an inspiration to many. 🙂 🙂
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Thank you! Yes, Morrison is awesome. As a poet, he speaks right to my soul…and to the souls of many, for sure. 🙂
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[…] rises and its falls. Paces, strokes. Hues and textures. The etchings on the canvas. My surrealist poetry of the Dalí type is always written to Pink Floyd. No exceptions. My play on a poet’s guitar solo […]
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